


A Fist Amidst The Hands

by odonian



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Autistic Entrapta (She-Ra), Disabled Character, Disabled Hordak, Disabled Scorpia, F/F, Grief/Mourning, Human AU, I'm Sorry, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Modern AU, Sibling Incest, Trauma, autistic characters, dubcon, implied Entrapdak, like i feel like it'll ruin catradora for some people, non magical au, this is very triggering
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-18 11:42:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28617498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/odonian/pseuds/odonian
Summary: An orphan, a sister, a daughter. Catra struggles to find herself in her early twenties when she is entangled by the looming shadows of her past and yet to come traumas. But she isn't alone.HUGE TRIGGER WARNING FOR INCEST, DUBCON, REFERENCED CSA AND NONCON, read the tags.
Relationships: Adora & Bow & Glimmer (She-Ra), Adora & Catra (She-Ra), Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Adora/Glimmer (She-Ra), Catra & Entrapta & Scorpia (She-Ra), Catra/Scorpia (She-Ra)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 45





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't a positive catradora fic. It's more centered around catra and adora but they aren't nor will become a couple. this work is not meant to glorify/excuse incest nor sexual abuse. it's more like a vent fic in which these things are discussed. idk how accurate the pov of the abuser will be. please take care, do not read if it might hurt you. ps english isnt my first language

On the shortest day of the year, Adora came back.

"Hey, Adora."

She closed the trunk of her white car, standing awkwardly in front of the sidewalk with her handbag and luggage. "Hi." was all she offered along with a timid smile, carving almost-there-dimples in her cheeks reddened by the winter breeze.

"You're gonna die in that red hoodie one day, trust me." Catra was already walking to their front door, not lending a hand at all with the baggage her sister was carrying in the freezing cold.

She had glanced at her car ("Swift Wind", the other girl had called it a long time ago, on a summer day too difficult to remember in the current weather) and noticed all the new additions: big and small stickers on it, framed by writings. They looked like a long list of names intertwined on every side of the vehicle. She felt the impulse to turn around.

Adora was setting everything in front of the door after closing it, looking around like she was walking in for the first time. "You changed things up, huh."

She was met with only the soft sounds of coffee brewing in the moka and of Catra's bare feet moving on the carpet.

Their house used to be all black wood and metal; grey walls except for their bedrooms, which were sickly green, and even though the windows were large it seemed that light often had difficulty finding a way in. Adora suspected it stayed like that for a few years even after she left, at least up until their mother died a month ago.

The black tones were replaced with warm brown wood, complemented by the beige and pastel pink furniture. It felt homey. It was weird, Adora thought, coming from Catra.

"The funeral has been postponed," the brunette announced as she poured the coffee into a tiny cup. Not expecting Adora, she had been making coffee for one. She poured the rest into another bigger cup for her. The frown that had formed on Adora's face after hearing the news converted into a small smile at the other girl's gesture.

"Mom's cousin or long lost brother or whatever just came to know about this," she lifted up her eyebrows while taking on her usual posture, the one she took when she was complaining about something, "Must've been a shock. What a tragedy for him, Nameless Stranger With Whom I've Talked On The Phone Only Once."

She sipped her coffee while her pointed ears were graced by Adora's little giggle. Unlike Nameless Stranger, they were past that initial phase, although they knew that this phase they were in right now would not fade away in a matter of months.

"So, he asked us- I mean, me, not like there's someone else organizing the funeral- to wait at least a month so he can come by."  
"Understood," was all Adora said, wishing she could say more.

Adora wasn't good at words, feelings, communicating. Catra was, she just didn't want to. The former girl suspected that her lack of ability in the matter derived by the fact that since childhood her world had been comprised of strictly and only their house and their garden. So when she turned 18 she took Swift Wind and went to the closest TAZ she could find. Of course, her limited vocabulary and poor communication skills (which apparently hadn't improved much) weren't the only reason. The other reason was hung up in the air, hovering awkwardly above the two girls sat on the couch, like a magical staring eye. Each knew the other could feel its presence.

"So," the taller girl (she had grown at least a few inches since Catra had last seen her) decided to speak, "how've you been?"

Catra had already finished her coffee, since she drank it like one would gulp down a shot, and was resting her head against a pillow. "Oh, didn't you hear? My mom died." she deadpanned.

She had forgotten how easily frustrated one could get around Catra. But she had always been more patient than anyone else with her. "My condolences. Apart from that?"

"Mhm. Nothing new."  
"What's up with your hands?"  
"Mhm?" she looked down at the superficial scratches on the back of her hands, "Oh, that's Melog."  
"Melog?" Adora had repeated, eyes glinting in anticipation. As if on cue, the little grey ball of furr trilled from the stairs and came running towards them, greeting Adora. She was a complete stranger to him. He decided to immediately befriend her.

"You got a cat!"  
"I'm not sure it's a cat. He sounds more like a demon."  
Melog meowed, as if he could understand her, and he did sound weird indeed. They quietly laughed at him, careful not to hurt his pride while Adora began petting him.

Catra watched her fingers scratch behind his ear, his chin, his back and after a while even his belly. "Oh, what a good cat!"  
"Cat's... aren't dogs. Don't talk to him like he's one."

Adora lowered her voice, talking directly to Melog "Don't listen to her. You can be whatever you want to be." He made a sound filtrated by his purring.

For one moment, Catra was at peace. The steady purring of Melog, mixed with Adora's whispered praises to him relaxed her. But then she felt a hand hold her own.

"I missed you," a pair of blue eyes told her.

She stilled for a second, before slipping her hand away from her's.  
 _It didn't seem like it_ , she wanted to say, _but also it's not like I cared!_ she wanted to falsely say _, and it's not like I was struggling with some internalized bullshit which made me very confused about how I should feel! I didn't know if I was supposed to be ashamed of caring or not!_

Instead, she grunted another "Mhm."

A little hurt, her sister put her hand back on Melog. But he too didn't want her hands on him anymore and chose instead to sit on his owner lap, continuing to pur. She couldn't blame him. They fell into silence as the sky darkened.

"You wanna play Mario Kart?"  
"Huh?" the older girl was surprised to hear Catra's voice.  
"I said, Do you want to get your ass beat on Mario Kart?"

Both of them grinned, competitive and mischievous as Catra went upstairs to get her switch.

"Big words for someone who'd cry when we used to play it on the Wii."  
"Oh, shut the fuck _up_ ," she heard her almost laugh.

Adora let her pick Princess Peach, while she chose Yoshi. They stayed like that for hours, rematch after rematch, not talking about anything in particular but laughing and commenting on the game ( _"Catra! What the hell, you always cheat! No, stop!"_ ). Catra felt Adora's warmth radiating off her body like an aura of energy and felt like it had never left her side.  
At a certain point, Catra had grown tired and decided to start preparing dinner. Adora couldn't peel her eyes off the screen.

From the kitchen Catra asked her: "What? They didn't have video games in whatever squatted place you found?"

Still fixed on the game Adora replied without minding the not-so-hidden sarcasm of her sister: "I never stayed long in one place. Most of them didn't have any consoles."

"Boring."

"Heh," Catra could see her smile even from behind, "it wasn't boring."  
"Oh yeah?" she replied, her everlasting sarcasm never leaving her tone "What did you see?"

She asked as if it were a curiosity that was born as an afterthought, not like something she had been wondering for years.

"I met an 11 year old who builts perfectly realistic ice sculptures."

It made Catra choke out a bit of a laugh she didn't intend to, pleasing Adora. "What?!"

"Yeah! She was commissioned to make a Trump statue- like a statue _of Trump_! Can you believe it!? - and she made it but it was a pig instead."  
Catra kept laughing. "That's an 11 year old with some strong opinions."

"Well, yeah, her parents died when she was 8."  
They paused.  
"She's like us," Adora added, "only we're orphans for the second time."

Catra listened to her stories while preparing some stew, knowing it would be a cold night. Adora recounted the various interesting characters she had met and how some of them left her presents, which were what most of her luggage still at the door was.

"Do you have any clothes?"  
"The clothes I need, yes."  
"You mean the red hoodie and three shirts?"  
"Yup."  
"Ugh." Catra pinched the bridge of her nose as she sat down again beside her. "That's why you smell."

"Get a whiff o' that!" she said brightly while untying her ponytail, letting the blonde hair fall down on her shoulders like a golden river. While she was massaging her neck Catra noted: "It grew a lot."

"You cut yours."  
"I've been waiting three hours for you to comment on it."  
"It was hard to notice." she jokingly told her with a familiar smile, putting her hand on the back of Catra's head.

Once again, she stilled. Adora's hand began moving the same way a spider's legs would move when preying on its victims. "You look cute." she said after a few seconds that felt like years. Under her fingers her skin was burning. Gently, almost as if fearing she could physically hurt her, Adora got closer to her neck, enough to breathe in deeply and whispered, capillarily sending chills down every fibre of her body. "And you smell better than I do."

Her heterochromatic eyes were wide open and a million thoughts were racing from one pointed ear to the other.

_Why did you do that to me? I was 14, you were 16. Why did you keep doing it? Why did you leave after doing it? What did you do just now? Did you do it on purpose? Why can't you say anything? Why are you acting like it's all good? Did Mom know? Do you even understand what you did to me? Do you know I haven't slept right since I was 14?_

Adora was deaf to it all. She asked where Catra would sleep after dinner so she could pick a room. She was tired.


	2. Body

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> referenced noncon at the end of the chapter. this fic will be containing a LOT of flashbacks

The night it happened Catra was sitting among the white and golden t-shirts and poorly sewn flags coloring the stands, her red wool hat standing out like a green tree in autmn. It was a late February in her early teens, warm air anticipating spring had already crept its way into town, but the soft breeze barely brushing her hair and ears was enough of an excuse for her to cover them up.

"Excuse me- oh, sorry-sorry! Moving past!"

Scorpia plopped down in the seat beside her, offering the caramel popcorn she had carried all the way there. She had somehow miraculously kept it from falling out, balancing it between her five fingers and the instability of a crowd of teenagers.

"Thanks!" a nasal voice chirped from the other side of Catra and a tanned hand with purple nails appeared. No sound came out of the other girl as she ate absentmindedly, not even regarding her with a glance. Scorpia's smile faltered for a moment but quickly came back.

"So, end of the season, huh? Your sister must be mad nervous."

At the mention of her sister, Catra's face softened a bit. "Psh, yeah. She spent the last two weeks studying the opposing team games from this year. She made, like, charts? With their names on? Kinda creepy."

Mouth full of popcorn, Entrapta gave them her two cents: "To me it sounds like she did a fantastic job at preparing strategically our school team by collecting data."

"I don't think football games can be reduced down to clean data."

"Everything is data."

"Well, to me it just sounds like we're gonna win!"

Catra did not react at first. She pushed her beanie further down her ears, subconsciously trying to block out everyone's comments. Adora's name was traveling through the air like electricity, students around them were contagious with excitedness, certain of their football schoolteam victory.

Above and around them, everything was glowing in the soft orange light of the late evening and the first white flashes of the field's lights deepened the shadows of Catra's features, making her look like a greek statue in a dark room, Scorpia thought. She had never seen anything more beautiful than the dark lipped smile that then formed on her face. Scorpia felt something pull in her chest when she realised her friend was wearing the lipstick she had lent her.

"Wish me luck?"

She hadn't noticed Catra's sister standing beside them, nor the hushed whispers coming from every direction.

"Yeah, you'll need it."

"Oh really?"

"Don't have that much faith in you. Just try not break any bones. Again."

Their words tasted like the caramel Adora stole from Catra's cup. She chewed on it and smiled when she saw the hat she had made sitting on her long hair. It was actually quite uncomfortable for her, its fabric was heavy and itchy and it didn't match well with her sensitive skin, but she never had the heart to tell her. She liked it enough, anyway.

"That's the sweetest thing you ever told me!" she stated as she turned around and ran down, waving at them.

"Really? Then I take it back!" Her smile and the sugar in her mouth burned the inside of her cheeks.

As everyone had expected, Adora's team won. Entrapta had left half an hour early, when the lights had become too bright and their schoolmates too noisy. Catra was walking close to her now, as they made their way through the cheerful students and the smell of beer, trying to leech off of the bigger girl's heat without touching. Scorpia felt palpitations everytime she'd dare lean in a bit more and meet no resistance.

"Hey, wait up!"

Adora always ruined the moment.

She was sprinting towards them, even though she was lying dead on the grass just moments before. Catra congratulated her once she was close enough for them to see the sweat covering her whole figure. She didn't sound that happy, Scorpia couldn't quite figure why, but her voice still held the same sweetness from before. Adora invited them both to a party at one of her teammates house. Catra raised a questioning eyebrow, "You know Mom's gonna kill us if she doesn't see us before curfew, right?"

"Aw, _come on_! I'll call her."

"Yeah... you do that, I'm not gonna risk it."

On one of those rare occasions Catra had opened up to her, she had ranted for quite some time about how her sister wasn't actually the goody two-shoes type everyone made her out to be. She just got to get away with more than others. Certainly more than her.

So she didn't budge, she stopped trying to get closer whilst going home. She was content breathing in the perfume the other girl sprayed on herself to mask the smell of cigarettes as they walked down their street.

______

Adora hadn't called.

Catra had gone straight to her room in the attic once she got home, avoiding her mother's stare coming from the living room lit by the TV lights. The muffled voices coming from it still bothered her hours later, even with one of her protruding ears pressed against the pillow. She had kept the other one uncovered, hoping to hear the phone ring. Instead, she picked up the sound of their front door opening slowly, like the idiot was hoping their mother wouldn't catch her as soon as she stepped foot inside. The muffled sounds from the TV stopped.

She perked up from her bed, trying to listen to them, trying to make out more than Adora's surprisingly antagonizing tone and her mother's usual disappointed one. She heard a stern "To your room!" and stomping feet.

The last time Catra had come home past curfew she wasn't given the luxury of sleeping in her own room. Or inside the house.

She curled around her pillow and tried to keep her mind quiet. It was useless, since Adora had decided to break another rule that night and open the trapdoor, making her sit up.

"Why aren't you in our room?" her speech was a bit slurred.

"Why weren't you?"

She went back down her covers, scowling from underneath them. She wanted to say something. She wanted to scream at her. Why couldn't she just enjoy her privileges instead of making their lives even more difficult? A little snarling voice inside her head told her: _Well actually, she doesn't suffer any repercussions. She could literally shit on our country's flag and be the next elected president_.

She felt the covers slip off her face and met two blue hazy eyes. Adora was on her knees like she was praying and she reeked like the whole stadium they had just been in hours ago, the one in which she had triumphantly held the tournament cup in. Her pupils were slightly dilated by something, something Catra couldn't quite comprehend. It felt as if she had just seen something for the first time, maybe at the party, or when she was coming home, or right then, something the black of her eyes were trying to capture and keep all for themselves. Whatever it was, it had something to do with the kiss Adora placed on her lips.

Catra immediately shot back her head, not quite yet registering the other girl's actions as she tried to distance herself. A nervous chuckle escaped her throat.

"Dude... did someone spike your drink?"

The blonde kept staring at her, at her eyes and at her lips, breathing heavily like someone who had just grazed the clutches of death.

"Hello?" Catra thought she must've been so drunk to not be able to recognize her, "It's me, Catra?"

Adora repeated softly her name. And then it happened.


	3. Eye Infection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a look on one aspect of their childhood and a brief introduction of glimmer and bow in the story

Girlhood in the Weaver household was a difficult concept to grasp for the two sisters. It was more of a task their mother entrusted them with as an afterthought, like when her friends with their big trucks and waving american flags would show up in the driveway, she'd make them run up to their shared room to _"Put something decent on!"_ and they'd pick out what they knew their mother meant, long skirts and frilly tops. They contrasted with the dark undertones of the house but remained neutral, creamy white and light brown like an ice cream sandwich, walking down the stairs one step at a time instead of sliding down or jumping like they usually did. 

It got more difficult once Adora returned home from elementary school for the first time and Catra saw a pink thing in her hand. It was a doll, she understood that, but she had never seen one like that before. In the orphanage they were plush and large, this one was small, thin, human-like and plastic. 

Adora had held it up to her, a faint blush coloring her cheeks, and looked at her with anticipation. 

"What?" 

"For you." 

Immediately, a large hand pushed her sister's arm down. "Adora!" her tone reprimanding, "You shouldn't give away someone else's present!" 

"They gave you that for _free_?" Catra asked, incredulous. The other girl nodded again, embarrassed by the whole situation. "It's so cool!" 

At that, Adora tried to give it to her once more, only to be warned again, this time without being physically forced to put the toy down. "Adora... that doll looks _nothing_ like Catra," it was true, but somehow the way she said it stung, "Are you trying to hurt her feelings?" 

As time passed, the two girls learned that they couldn't have similar wardrobes. At first, it was because Catra was smaller than her, their mother had told them. Then, it was because, _of course, can't you see? This dress doesn't match well with the color of your skin!_ and she'd dress her up in grey and make it darker every time she protested. She wanted to wear what Adora wore, to walk beside her and let everyone know they were sisters. But she was too dark, too hairy. That was what their mother said. 

But little did she know what Adora was doing behind her back. One time, a number of dolls disappeared from the elementary school breakroom and when Catra saw them in her sister's backpack she noticed that they were all brown, dark haired and some of them had freckled faces. They hid them under the bed in the attic and visited them when their mother went to sleep and added different items of the same nature to the collection. 

It surprised Catra and made her anxious, since she knew that if someone found out the blame would fall on her and it made her even more anxious to think of what would happen if Adora were to be caught. She was not a thief, unlike Catra. That was what their mother said. 

But the sleepless nights they passed playing with the things Adora stole, putting on pigtails, braiding each other's hair, brushing their doll's hair, changing their clothes and falling asleep together after a sparring match with hairbrushes were worth all the trouble. 

In middle school, Catra had gotten too vulgar, their mother said. Her body changed, so she had to try and not attract any type of attention to it. Her clothes were larger than her figure, making her feel small. The tight fitting gym clothes she had worn up until then were tucked away in her closet and she kept them even when they got too small, just to know that at least she still owned them. Obviously, it broke Adora's heart, who couldn't steal from a clothing store and keep it hidden from their mother. They had stopped with the sleepovers, preferring to sleep as much as possible before they had to take their bicycles and go to school, but on Adora's 14th birthday night she showed Catra what her friends had bought for her. 

"Why did they give you that?" she had chuckled upon seeing the make up kit. 

"I asked them." 

"But why?" perplexed, she looked at her face. She wasn't wearing any that day, nor did she ever wear it any other day, even though it went unspoken that she had permission to do so, unlike Catra. 

She opened the palette, took out the brushes on Catra's bed and sat beside her. "For you." 

She didn't respond, a bit embarrassed by the fact that even Adora had figured out she liked make up. She would've looked promiscuous and from the streets if she even talked about using it, that's what their mother said, but everytime a spot on TV featured glossed, red lips or pink, violet eyeshadows she just stared in awe at all those women who looked like Adora's first doll. 

They both had no experience whatsoever and used it like children playing pretend, at first. Adora used a brush to blush her cheeks and they turned so bright and red and even redder when Catra saw them in the mirror and laughed. "You're horrible!" 

"Hey! Let me try again!" 

At the end of the night Adora had managed to learn how to apply eyeliner on her sister's face, after Catra showed her, because she had watched her friends do it so oftenly at school. They struggled a bit at first but after a while they both expertly made a black wing on both corners of her eyes. After that, she'd sneak the kit in her school bag, or put some on before going out, knowing that her mother would either be at work or sleeping in her room. As time passed and her sister got into highschool, she started wearing it differently than the women on TV, asking the other girl for darker tones, drawing harsher lines, making herself scarier to the white boys who picked on her. Adora didn't think she was scary, though, especially when she stopped covering up her freckles. "You're pretty." she told her once when they were pedaling their way to school. No one else called her that. 

It all abruptly stopped when one day her mother woke up earlier than usual. She had made no sound, like she was waiting for her, and caught her in the hallway as she was putting away in her backpack some textbooks she had almost forgotten. " _Catra_." she practically hissed, her voice slicing through her. She stopped breathing as her decorated face burned hot. "Come here." 

What happened afterwards doesn't need an explicitly detailed description, although it was obvious that the stinging pain and redness on her cheeks wasn't something she had painted on herself. She had kept her mouth shut and eyes narrowed the whole time as her mother accused her of stealing, prompting her to tell her where she got it, threatening to call her teachers and tell them she stole from her classmates until Adora put herself between them, arms outstretched, like a dam defending Catra from the river in spate. 

"I gave it to her!" 

"Adora..." she had said after a while, her voice pitiful and patient, "She's tempting you." 

Her mother's hands on her sister were gentler, patting her hair and pushing back what had escaped from her ponytail. "Girls of her kind are like _that_ , Adora. You need to understand that. You can't treat her like one of your friends." 

The blond was speechless, confused by the tenderness of her voice and the cruelty she didn't understand in her words. "But she _is_ my friend!" 

Her mask slipped, her tone harsher and louder, making both of them still: "Then _don't enable her_!" 

Their mother trashed every make up kit in the house. Catra felt smaller and smaller in her big shirts and pants now that her face was nude for the whole world to see. Still, on a particularly bad day, Adora told her: "You're pretty." and made her smile until the first bell rang. 

They found their balance between red dresses and clothes from the men's section, and whatever remained of the days of pigtails and braids were hushed _"You're pretty, today"_ 's and the dolls they managed to salvage. But anything remotely girly and pink was associated with pained cheeks and hearts, so Catra just accepted whichever second handed clothes she was given, while Adora grew a distaste for feminine accessories. Catra wondered if it was because when she'd see them she'd hear their mother's words and think of how disgusting her sister was for wanting those things, or if she genuinely didn't like them that much. Catra often made fun of her style, not because it was bad, but because she actually had the choice to dress however she pleased and still, she wore the same red hoodie everyday. She'd make a face whenever Catra tried to change up her looks to something less boring. 

So when a disgustingly pink girl stood on her doorstep, years later, claiming to be Adora's girlfriend, well, it made Catra want to punch her square in the face. 

She looked misplaced, like someone had left their tricycle amidst a sea of black motorcycles. The dull grey that covered everything in their street seemed to cower away from her neon bright boots (they, too, were pink, of course) and it looked like she was sucking all the light towards her, ripping a hole through space, the one where she must've appeared out of, because there was no way she had just walked up to her door like that. Catra's attention had zeroed in on her, on her (you guessed it) pink hair, the glitter under her eyes, her obnoxious smile; she almost didn't see the crop topped boy beside her and the azurine car behind them. 

When Catra didn't answer nor move, slight worry painted the stupidly pink face: "Wait, are you homophobic?" 

"No, but I think I should be." 

She let them in, eyeing them suspiciously, offended by their mere presence and a million questions behind her gritting teeth, unwilling to let them know how much she wanted them to explain everything to her. Why didn't Adora mention her girlfriend when she recounted her experiences? 

What made it awkward, apart from the tension in the air, was the fact that Adora had taken a train to the city that morning and left Catra alone. 

She had been trying to avoid her for a whole week, spending most of it couped up in the attic, knowing Adora wouldn't dare come up there, and was talking on the phone with Scorpia when the doorbell rang. She had thought that the warm and fuzzy feeling she felt during and after the phonecall would make it easier for her to bear her sister's dumb face, but instead she found _two_ unfamiliar faces. 

"Where's Adora?"

"She'll be back soon. Bathroom's at the end of the hallway on your right." she told them while already hurrying back to her room, where she called Scorpia once again. 

______ 

"Anyway, what's up with you?" 

"You know the squirrel who's been living in my backyard?" 

Scorpia launched in a compelling story involving a family of squirrels, a stack of green plates and how she found an old family heirloom thanks to the events of that morning. It was a big ruby her grandparents had left behind years ago. 

"Woah, man. How much could you sell it for?" 

"I dunno. Not planning on it." 

"Why not?" 

"I kinda miss my family." 

Catra wanted to slap herself, and bit her tongue before she asked for forgiveness. Instead, she swallowed and said: "Yeah, I feel you." 

A pause. Scorpia knew that Adora had returned, Catra had told her that, but she sensed a slight tension in her friend's voice whenever the topic was brought up. She had learned through the years that pushing Catra to talk about her feelings was the best idea you could come up with if you wanted to die horribly. So she waited for her to say anything else, hoping she might want to open up and tell her everything, all the things she never said among the others she did while she lashed out at her and distanced herself during those years but all she got instead was silence. She breathed deep through her nose. "Plus, I'm pretty sure it's like, stolen from a colonized land." 

"Fuck, didn't even think about it." she laughed, "Adora would have." 

"How do you know?" 

"This bitch has traveled the whole country and all she returned with is a lot of thoughts on leftist theory she wants to discuss." 

Her friend braced herself before asking the next question: "Are you happy? That she's back." 

Oh, Catra did not want to answer that. She brought her fingernails to her mouth and wondered briefly why it was that people had the habit of asking how she felt, like she somehow knew. She settled for a shrug the other couldn't see but could feel from the way she said "I guess." 

She felt as if there was a feeling inside of her, an urge she couldn't quell, that she insistently ignored everytime it perked its little head up from the inside of her stomach, and everytime she did that it turned into knots and trapped her under the covers of her own bed. It would always happen in close proximity to Adora. It wasn't like she didn't want to see her, she did, and that was exactly her problem. 

For a moment, Catra wanted to tell Scorpia everything. About the first time it happened. And how it happened multiple times afterwards. And how she felt everytime. But she herself had never taken the space and time to think about it, what would she say? It was a fact so surreal she often wondered if it had happened at all. And worst of all, she'd have to tell her about how sometimes, even when Adora was gone, when darkness would fill her room, she wished that she'd hear her open the trapdoor. And if she were able to get to this point in her talk, how would she continue? What would she respond when her friend would inevitably ask _"To do what?"_

She loved Scorpia, even if she hated the sound of the word and would never say it, but she would never test her like that. Not only would she lose her, but she'd also expose her to something she was better off not knowing. 

So she kept her mouth shut and changed the topic. 

______ 

She woke up to Adora's laughter coming through the floor and Melog's incessant meowing. "Coming, _coming_!" she told him as he immediately dashed down to the kitchen after hearing her voice. As she followed him, she noticed the silence that fell on the livingroom as he passed beside it. Of course, her sister tried calling for her once she passed too. 

"Catra!" 

"I'm feeding Melog." 

"Oh, uh, sorry." 

As she crouched on the kitchen floor to pour some food in his bowl she thought about how awkward the next few days would be for Adora's friends. She noticed some luggage, much more than what Adora had brought, at the door and rolled her eyes. She stayed beside her cat until he finished eating, postponing as much as possible the moment she'd have to face the three of them. 

The crop top boy greeted her with a nervous smile, taking in her disheveled hair and white tank top and shorts, understanding clearly that she was not in the mood to talk to people. The other two, however, did not pick up on it, even when she groaned loudly as she entered the room. 

Her sister jumped up from her seat, like a nobleman being gallant or a puppy about to go for a walk, a smile wider than her friends' plastered across her face, the corners of her eyes crinkling. She was so pretty today. Catra wanted to take the voice in her head that had said that and kill it with one of her mother's guns. 

"Are you not cold?" the dumbest person in the room asked. 

"Clearly, I'm not." 

The two, Glitter and Bow they said, and I'll spare you Catra's thoughts on those names, were tense, understanding already what kind of person Catra was. Her sister however, who had always seemed to be the only person in the world to not see it (or maybe just ignored it), took something out of her pocket and presented it to Catra, her toothy grin still there. When she saw it she lost her arrogant posture for a second, then returned to it. "What?" 

"For you." 

She studied it, staying far from the hand holding it out. "How did you find it? It's ancient." 

Adora's smile shied a bit, her cheeks coloring with a familiar blush as she rolled the eyeliner kit, the same one she had brought her years ago, between her long fingers, "Well, took me the whole morning. Was it worth it?" 

A feeling unknown to Catra and yet not new, bittersweet and softly moving in her chest as it ripped it apart, was growing out of her control. She took it without realizing and said: "It's probably going to give me an eye infection, asshole." 


End file.
